


something so magic about you

by winterbitch (WinterLadyy)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fae Jaskier | Dandelion, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Musician Jaskier | Dandelion, Pining Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Reincarnation, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, jaskier is basically hozier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23633032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterLadyy/pseuds/winterbitch
Summary: Geralt is an average guy with a nice job and the best cat in the world. He's fine being single and alone, until Yennefer forces him to go to a pub where he meets this strange musician, Jaskier. It's almost too easy to fall in love with him, even if he's a bit strange sometimes, a bit not-there. Geralt was never one to fall so quickly, but Jaskier just...fits next to him. As if by Destiny.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 21
Kudos: 158





	something so magic about you

“You’re going with me tonight,” Yennefer states firmly, hands on her hips. **  
**

Geralt just huffs, not looking up from his laptop. He has work to do and he’s not about to go to some shitty club just because Yennefer wants company and none of her usual boy-toys has time.

“No,” he answers curtly. “Find someone else.”

“But I want you to go,” she says patiently. Geralt knows it’s just a matter of time before she explodes and he caves. “You can’t stay holed up here, it’s not good for you, Geralt.”

“I like it.”

“You’re used to it and scared of opening up, that’s what you mean?” Yen drawls, making hi curse.

“Okay, fine,” Geralt snaps. “I’ll go.”

“Perfect.” She claps her hands and walks towards the bedroom, starting to rummage through his closet. Geralt doesn’t even react. “Now get up and try a few things for me, you can’t go looking like a punk hobo.”

“Fuck you.”

Yennefer sighs and not 2 hours later they’re standing in front of her car, Geralt dressed in uncomfortably tight, but stylish clothes. He’s giving her a silent treatment, but it doesn’t look like it’s working, as she’s texting someone, before starting the car.

“There’s a new singer there tonight, or at least that’s what Triss says. I don’t know anything else,” Yen states casually and suddenly, he knows what she’s trying to do.

“You’re not setting me up,” Geralt snaps, quite ready to exit the car now as it’s running.

“Relax, Geralt, I don’t even know him,” she laughs. “But you have to admit, you’ve been single since we broke up, almost 5 years ago. That’s a long time.”

“I’m content where I am,” he says forcefully, almost believing himself. Yennefer just sends him a pitying look and doesn’t say anything else.

The club they pull up next to is more classy than Geralt expected. A bit of a pub actually, with wooden tables and moody lighting, some candles and vines. It looks weirdly like a tavern from the Middle Ages and for some reason, it puts him at ease. His shoulders relax and Geralt goes right to the bar, his vision flickering for a second. 

There’s a sound of a lute, a lovely voice and the smell of chamomile and parchment and horse. There’s something heavy in the air, something familiar and exciting at the same time. His hand goes to the hilt of his sword and that’s when Geralt realizes what the fuck he’s doing.

He jerks back with a curse and doesn’t stumble by some miracle. He does, however, bump into someone and the other man curses. Geralt turns around and, as his eyes meet the blue ones of the stranger, the whole world stops.

There’s nothing special about the guy and yet everything about him is unique and worth mentioning. His bright blue eyes, now wide with shock, pink mouth open, showing white teeth and a bit too-sharp canines, brown hair that’s the most common shade of brown and yet steals Geralt’s breath. Even his plaid shirt and black loose jeans are unique, in a way that Geralt doesn’t expect them.

For some reason, he expects the stranger to be dressed in bright, shining clothes and ridiculous jackets, his underwear showing. He has no idea why, as thinking about a stranger’s underwear is a bit creepy, but it happens.

“Hello there!” the man says a bit breathlessly, pulling Geralt back into the world of the living. “You look a bit constipated if you don’t mind me saying that.”

“I’m…” He’s what? Stupid apparently? Some kind of psychic that for some reason thought he had a sword. “You’re dressed wrong,” is what Geralt settles on saying, wincing mentally.

“Pardon me?” the man asks, taken aback but with a smile. The smile is also familiar, that little smirk that speaks of trouble and dirty songs and Geralt really should focus back on the conversation.

“Sorry,” he mutters gruffly. “Just a thought.”

“Oh, what a rarity that must be!” the man exclaims, throwing an arm over Geralt’s shoulder.

He settles into it effortlessly, as if they’ve been friends forever which can’t be true because Geralt has only 3 friends and 2 of them are his brothers. This man is a stranger he just met and yet Geralt feels more relaxed with him than he feels with Yen, most of the time. The man doesn’t let him even panic about it, as he’s settled on a stool next to the bar, the stranger following. Their bodies are still pressed together, warm and soft and the man smells like chamomile, probably a shampoo or something. It’s calming.

“It’ll be vodka with orange for me and one with ginger for this wonderful man over here,” the man says to the barman, eyes bright.

“How did you know?” Geralt asks, suddenly on guard. It’s his favourite way to drink vodka, with a sharpness of ginger and some sugar when he’s alone. It’s not the usual way to drink it so it’s not weird that he’s suspicious. He’s not paranoid, no matter what Eskel says.

The man gives him a disarming smile, immediately making Gerale relax, which only angers him more.

“Calm down, my friend,” the man mutters, eyes blazing with light in the dim room. “I just had a feeling. I’m good at those.”

“Right…” Geralt drawls. He’s not in the mood to point out that they’re not friends yet, but… “I don’t even know your name, _friend_.”

The man throws his head back and laughs, bright and deep. Geralt is starting to hate his body’s reactions to this man.

“Right you are,” he agrees. “Call me… Jaskier. I’m Jaskier.”

There’s something strange to the way he says that name, but for all it’s weird, it also fits him. Jaskier. Geralt really likes that name.

“Good one,” he nods. “I’m Geralt.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier purrs, sanding shivers down Geralt’s spine. He wants to hear his name from this man’s mouth for the rest of his life. “How nice of you to drop by.”

Geralt chuckles and just like that, they fall into a conversation. It’s effortless in a way it never is for Geralt, trading jabs and jokes and leaning into each other’s space. The drinks appear more and more and he’s pleasantly buzzed, basking in the light of Jaskier’s eyes, but the other man appears perfectly sober. He’s leaning against Geralt’s shoulder, that’s true, yet he’s sober and coherent. It seems like Jaskier just wants the contact and oh, it’s like a drug in Geralt’s system.

“I’m afraid I have to leave you for a hot second, my dear,” Jaskier says suddenly, leaning away. Geralt misses his warmth instantly. “But please, keep those gorgeous eyes on me the whole time.”

Though he has no idea what’s going on, Geralt obeys effortlessly. His eyes trail Jaskier as the man picks his way through the crowd before disappearing behind the curtains of the small scene. Geralt’s breathing catches and then Jaskier appears again, an acoustic guitar held in his arms, an easy smile on his face. His hair is messy, face flushed and Geralt can almost smell the excitement on him. He doesn’t look nervous.

“Hello everyone,” Jaskier says into the mic, easy as breathing. “I’m honoured to be the one to wail and serenade all of you on this amazing full moon, harmonizing with all the local werewolves. Hope you enjoy.”

He sings and his voice is just as lovely and enchanting as Geralt imagined in those few seconds he realized what’s going on. He sings popular tunes and raunchy songs and his voice sure and strong. People sing along with him, Jaskier leading effortlessly in a way no starting musician can achieve. Geralt knows jack-shit about musicians and celebrities but he can recognize self-confidence on the scene when he sees it. And well, Jaskier never said he’s a starting musician.

After a few songs, one of which is a popular Humour of Whiskey, which Jaskier executes perfectly, voice clear and strong, not faltering once, someone finally has a request.

“Sing Like Real People Do!” someone screams and it must be a popular tune, as the rest of the bar starts screaming and demanding it as well.

It’s the first time Geralt sees Jaskier falter, shoulder hunching a bit. It lasts a fraction of a second before the man laughs.

“Alright, okay, calm down people!” he calls into the mic. “By a popular demand, Like Real People Do, by Byrne.”

Geralt never heard of the man but fuck, if all his songs are as good as that one, he may start listening. Of course, he doubts that the Byrne guy holds a candle to Jaskier’s voice and energy, but he’s hypnotized by words and the energy. He can almost smell the mud, feel the cold air and dirt on his skin. There’s something truly magical about this song, about Jaskier singing it.

The whole bar seems enchanted, even Yennefer from what Geralt can see. No one is drinking or talking, everyone’s eyes pinned to Jaskier on the scene, and he bears it like a King during the coronation. It’s astonishing.

Geralt keeps his eyes on Jaskier the whole time the man is away from him. When he settles on the stool next to Geralt, flushed and panting, Geralt stifles the instinct to pull him close and bury his nose in Jaskier’s neck.

“So, give me an opinion,” Jaskier asks eagerly, eyes wide. “Three words or less.”

“Absolutely stunning,” Geralt answers truthfully, stunning the man. Jaskier’s blue eyes get even bigger and his mouth opens in shock. “You must know you’re good,” he chuckles. “You had the whole bar enchanted.”

“Even you?” Jaskier asks again, this time quietly.

Geralt smiles, finally meeting Jaskier’s eyes. “Oh, I was caught the moment you looked at me.”

Jaskier gasps and even Geralt is surprised by his own boldness, but Jaskier’s eyes are filling with tears, mouth splitting in a smile and Geralt doesn’t regret it. He’s not sure of the reception Jaskier is used to getting but if he can raise his self-confidence? Good. It’s well-deserved.

“Can I have your number?” Jaskier aks in a rush, none of his smoothness left. His eyes are still stunned but there’s more light in them now, than it used to be when they met. 

“Of course,” Geralt agrees immediately, and then he has a new contact ‘ _Jaskier the Bard_ ’. He laughs when he sees it. “Can you play the lute then, bard?”

Jaskier jerks in his place, minutely surprised, before smirking as if nothing happened. Geralt adds it to the oddities of this strange, beautiful man.

“Meet me on Friday in the Kaer Seren and you can find out,” he says quietly, eyes blazing.

Geralt is pinned in place when Jaskier stands up and bushes a kiss over his cheekbone. 

“Until next time, Witcher,” he hears whispered and then he’s alone, reeling from what happened. It’s only the contact on his phone that convince him that it really happened.

He leaves as well, before Yennefer can find and interrogate him, and walks all the way to his flat, where he gathers Roach into his arms and falls on the bed. He stinks of alcohol and sweat but he’s too stunned to even take a shower so he lays there, until Roach forces him to bathe with a few well-placed bites.

Showered, and dressed in loose sweatpants, Geralt settles on the bed with his laptop, opening YouTube. While he doubts that this man can be as good as Jaskier, the song still struck and cord in him so he searches for Byrne.

The most popular one seems to be ‘Take Me To Church’ so he clicks on it and then his world stops again because this is Jaskier’s voice. A bit different, with professional music and no echo, but it has to be Jaskier’s voice.

He looks at the music video to make sure but there’s not one clear shot of Byrne’s face. Just his posture and dark clothes, broad shoulders and a guitar. Geralt’s hands shake and his eyes close and fuck, his voice is like dark chocolate over glass, sharp and deep and then smoothing any wound left by the edges. Geralt’s whole body melts into the bed and he drifts, lost in Jaskier’s voice.

He goes through the whole album, getting more and more stunned with every song. People in the comments seem to think he’s a cryptid or a god and well, Geralt met the man and he can definitely agree. There’s still something tugging at him, telling him that Jaskier should be singing different songs, simpler, with more rhymes but Geralt shuts it down. That damned “Amen” is the best thing he’s ever heard and he wants to live with that voice in his ears.

It’s almost 3 am and he has work the next day, but Geralt still opens texts and clicks on Jaskier’s name.

I _think I like Talk the most_

He’s not sure why he sends it, but the reply comes almost immediately

_oh god youre one of the ones who text properly_

_thats the end geralt i cant look at it_

_why_

Geralt startles himself and Roach by laughing.

_That’s what you’re going to focus on?_

_i had a feeling youre gonna recognise me_

_Are we still on?_

_its a date witcher_

Geralt snorts.

_Why do you call me that?_

_memory. some habits are hard to break_

_goodnight geralt_

There are a few days until Friday but they keep texting and Geralt keeps listening to Jaskier’s songs. His voice is heavenly and he melts every time. It doesn’t take Geralt long to figure out that Jaskier likes his privacy and doesn’t want to show his face to the public. He can understand it, even if it goes against what Geralt feels Jaskier is like. Still, everyone has the right to choose for themselves and fame must be exhausting after some time. 

It’s really surprising that they keep talking because Geralt is only slightly better at texting that he is at verbal conversation and that still leaves a lot to be desired. It seems like Jaskier can talk without Geralt’s input for a long time, and somewhere along the way, he finds himself checking his phone to see is Jaskier replied or sent him a meme or a picture of a cute animal. 

He’s still incredibly nervous for the meeting, the date, as Jaskier called it, but now, Geralt feels like he knows Jaskier a bit better. It’s not just some amazing singer wearing plaid in a night-club, but a funny, sassy guy who for some reason loves medieval memes and calls him “a witcher”, whatever it means.

Geralt’s hands are shaking slightly when he walks into the pub Kaer Seren. It’s actually one owned by his father’s army friend, Erland, so he knows it already. He even has a favourite table so he sits down and waits. Jaskier arrives only a few minutes late, a guitar case on his back, hair messy.

He still lights up when he sees Geralt and fuck, it’s just too adorable.

“Geralt!” Jaskier calls in that particular way of his.

Geralt stands up and just barely manages to catch Jaskier as the other man throws himself at him. A bit stunned, Geralt wraps his arms around the musician’s shoulders and closes his eyes for a while. It’s only their second meeting, and yet Jaskier fits perfectly against him, chest moving in quick breaths. He fits there like he was made to do so.

“Enthusiastic,” he comments dryly once they part.

Interestingly enough, it makes Jaskier blush a bit but the man still looks him boldly in the eyes. “Maybe I missed you,” he says simply, ruining all of Geralt’s defences.

It’s ridiculous to miss someone you met once for a little talk in a crowded bar, but Jaskier says it in a way that makes Geralt believe him. That makes him want to apologize for causing Jaskier pain, as ridiculous as it is.

Instead of making a fool of himself, Geralt motions towards a chair and nods at a waitress. She knows him already and she’ll bring what he always gets. He wants to surprise Jaskier with something.

“How was your week, my friend? I hope a bit more interesting than mine, as I was stuck at home with my dog, writing way too much. I don’t remember more than half of what I wrote, Geralt, it’s like magic!” Jaskier rambles.

Geralt just smiles, his head tilted and lets the words wash over him. He still listens, because everything Jaskier does is interesting, but he lets Jaskier’s voice scare away any anxiety or nerves. There’s nothing to fear, it’s just Jaskier.

Or maybe this is exactly why he should be scared.

“A new album?” Geralt asks in a break between Jaskier’s words, still talking about his week.

Jaskier perks up and shrugs with a cheeky smile. It doesn’t seem to fit his clothes, or maybe his clothes just don’t seem to fit him. Geralt still can’t be sure.

“Maybe,” Jaskier chuckles. “Inspiration strikes in wondrous, if surprising ways, and maybe I just needed the right muse to write a new album…”

“Oh, met someone new, have you?” Geralt drawls, aware that he’s actually flirting. And presuming quite a few things.

Before he can chicken out and apologize, a warm hand settles over his. For all that Jaskier is slimmer than Geralt, his hands are big and his fingers are long, a musician’s fingers. Also surprisingly calloused.

“I wouldn’t say _new_ , but definitely _someone_ ,” Jaskier agrees softly. Geralt flushes. “I play here sometimes, it’s a nice pub and the people are kind. And the owner is a gruff sweetheart, it’s adorable.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. He never heard anyone call Erland “adorable” but Jaskier is just special like that.

“I know him,” he admits. “He’s my father’s army friend.”

Jaskier perks up but his smile is fond. “Oh? Is your father the owner of Kaer Morhen ranch then? The name seems similar enough.”

“He is,” Geralt confirms. “I...grew up there. It’s nice.”

The other man smiles, fond. “You like horses then? I quite enjoy them, they can be such great friends! And so loyal too, if a bit moody sometimes. There was this great horse, such a stubborn mare, I tell you, but she was the most loyal mount I’ve ever seen. More balls than most men too.”

Geralt just stares at him and listens. It’s quite refreshing that he doesn’t have to respond for Jaskier to talk. For some reason, Jaskier seems to just get what Geralt means without words, just a few grunts and body language. No one ever saw him like that, and it’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

They talk and then eat when the waitress brings their food, drinking some beer. Just like Geralt predicted, Jaskier enjoys wine more than beer, and he smiles brightly when the waitress brings him a glass. Geralt is relaxed and a bit buzzed, enjoying the warmth of Jaskier’s smile.

It’s as if they’re childhood friends reuniting after yeas as if Geralt knew him and the forgot for some reason. As if Jaskier was always there, by his side, as if they’re connected by some invisible string.

It should scare him but instead, it makes him feel warm. Wanted.

“I should go and entertain the masses for a bit,” Jaskier finally states, face flushed from the wine. Like before, he doesn’t seem drunk, just pleased and content.

“Go then,” Geralt mutters, excited. “I’d like to see it again.”

Jaskier’s flush deepens and the man looks incredibly pleased if a bit startled. “Then watch me, Witcher. I’ll be singing just for you.”

It’s Geralt’s turn to blush but his eyes are trained on Jaskier.

The musician sings just like before, but there’s...more about him now. He moves a bit more, smiles easier, winks and smirks at people. Something in Geralt relaxes as if this is the way Jaskier is supposed to be. There’s more light in him now, his shoulders are looser. Geralt likes seeing him like this.

Jaskier sings until 2 am and it’s only Geralt’s insistence that makes him come back to the table, panting and flushed. Geralt gives him a wine glass and then watches his throat as Jaskier swallows, uncomfortable heat swelling in his stomach. 

Fuck.

He always knew that Jaskier is very attractive but Geralt rarely feels that way towards anyone that fast. Jaskier stirs a fire in him and it’s new and scary and Geralt wants to lean into it, let Jaskier’s fire burn him if needed.

Yet, for some reason, it doesn’t seem dangerous. Jaskier is full of light and fire and energy but it’s not a burning forest fire. It’s a calming winter night wrapped in blankets. It’s his cat’s warm body stretched on Geralt’s stomach. It’s calming and comfortable and just what he needs.

“Ready to go?” Geralt asks eventually, once the pub starts to empty. “You look tired.”

Jaskier smiles warmly at him and lets Geralt tug him out of his seat. He leans into Geralt, warm and soft and still fitting there perfectly, and Geralt’s heart swells.

“Let’s go then, my dear,” Jaskier mutters just next to his ear. Geralt swallows and nods Erland goodbye.

Neither of them has a car with them, which is good as they’re both drunk and leaning on each other. 

“Where do you live?” he asks quietly, lips brushing Jaskier’s ear and making the other man shudder.

“Hmm, a brave question, darling,” Jaskier whispers. “Not many people know the answer to it.”

It takes Geralt a second to realize what that means and when he does, he flushes. Jaskier, even if not by that name, is a famous musician and many people would probably kill to know where he lives. And Geralt just went and asked-

“Relax, big guy,” Jaskier says with a snicker. “Get a taxi and don’t worry.”

Geralt does just that and then, somehow, he’s standing in a cosy hallway, leaning against a wall as Jaskier tries to get his shoes off.

“Now you’re one of maybe 4 people who know where I live,” Jaskier informs him once he’s barefoot and still messy. “But it’s okay, I trust you.”

The easy way he says it stuns Geralt speechless. They’ve known each other for a week but here he is, in Jaskier’s flat, following the man into a guest room.

“I hope you don’t have work early tomorrow, I doubt we’ll manage to get up before 12,” Jaskier snickers and throws some blankets on the bed. “Now just relax and go to sleep. I’ll make breakfast tomorrow.”

“Is that a promise?” Geralt asks lazily as he sprawls on the bed.

Jaskier pauses for a second, eyes trained on him, something sad in them for a fleeting moment before he smirks. “Yep, don’t worry your pretty head about it. I got pretty good at cooking over the years.”

Before he can wonder what that means, Geralt is left alone as Jaskier probably goes to his own bedroom. The sheets don’t smell like Jaskier, but the apartment is quiet and cosy and well, Geralt falls asleep easily even without Roach cuddled to his chest.

He wakes up when the sun is already high in the sky and there’s a smell of pancakes and coffee in the air. His head is pounding but there’s a glass of water and some ibuprofen on the bedside table so Geralt takes it and heaves himself out of the bed.

He takes maybe 2 steps outside of the room when a big, furry body collides with his. Geralt curses and falls on his ass, a big dog wiggling in his lap.

“Gwynbleidd!”

Geralt pulls away when someone grabs the dog’s collar and manages to get him away from Geralt’s lap. He looks up and sees Jaskier with a messy bed-hair and dressed in a loose t-shirt. He’s crouched next to the dog, petting his head and cooing at him.

“Sorry for him, he can be a bit enthusiastic,” Jaskier says brightly, still wrapped around the white monstrosity that’s his dog. The animal is wagging his tail, panting happily. “He’s a very good boy, yes you are, but I don’t have guests here often, and he can be a bit confused as to how to act.”

“It’s fine,” Geralt assures, getting up and letting the dog sniff him, and then petting him. “He’s very beautiful.”

“Yes, he is,” Jaskier croons, kissing the top of the dog’s head. “Gwynbleidd is pretty and nice and very very cute, aren’t you, boy?”

Gwynbleidd pants and dances around their legs, before shooting off to the kitchen.

“Morning, Geralt, how’s the headache?” Jaskier asks brightly and knocks their shoulders together.

Geralt grunts and the frowns when he realizes that he’s not really in pain. A bit tired, yes, but the headache is gone and he’s just hungry.

“Gone,” he says, getting a knowing look in return. “How about that breakfast?”

Jaskier laughs and tugs him into the kitchen where the pancakes and coffee await. Geralt lets himself be led and spends the afternoon eating truly amazing pancakes and drinking an even better coffee. Jaskier is even brighter now, in the warm sun, cooing at his dog and laughing at Geralt’s lame jokes.

He leaves almost 3 hours later, with a small smile on his face and a container full of leftover pancakes. Geralt is still smiling when he enters his flat and then stops when he sees Yennefer on his couch with a glass of wine in her hand.

“Geralt, how nice of you to drop by,” she drawls with a smirk as he deflates.

She did give him quite some time before she dropped by and Geralt knows he can’t escape interrogation. That’s why he plops down and looks at her in silence.

“Had a good night, Geralt?”

“Yes,” he says curtly, not willing to go into details. She doesn’t need to know what happened.

“You’ve been smiling more, and now you’re coming home at 2 pm. Are you dating someone finally?” Yennefer asks with a wide smile.

“Not yet,” is all Geralt can think of saying as a small smile starts playing on his lips. “But maybe someday, yes.”

“I’m happy for you,” Yennefer says quietly, now truly smiling. “You’ve been too lonely lately, and whoever that person is, they must be special to make you so lovesick.”

“Jaskier is very special,” Geralt agrees. Yen is the only one who he can think of talking about this to. “I feel like I’ve known him forever.”

“Jaskier,” Yennefer repeats, something strange in her eyes. “Yes, I think I know what you mean.”

For some strange reason, no more is said about Jaskier. The musician keeps sending Geralt pictures of Gwynbleidd so Geralt replies with pictures of Roach and then, a few days later, Jaskier comes over to coo and pet her. Roach seems to love him instantly and it only makes Jaskier so much more appealing.

They meet a lot because for some strange reason Jaskier has quite a lot of free time, and it doesn’t take Geralt long to fall in love. He was never one to fall so quickly, but Jaskier is different. 

Sometimes, the other man looks at Geralt as if he broke his heart in pieces and then spat at it, and fuck, it makes Geralf feel guilty even though he didn’t do anything wrong. Sometimes, Jaskier starts saying something only to pause and look so completely lost that Geralt just has to squeeze his shoulder.

Sometimes, Jaskier doesn’t seem human, with the way his eyes glow and his smiles turn sharp. Sometimes, Geralt dreams of foggy forests and dirty taverns and a sweet voice crooning in his ear about tossing a coin. Sometimes, he wants to call Jaskier ‘bard’ and the word always gets stuck in his throat.

At some point, Jaskier leaves for his suburban house and calls Geralt only to tell him that he’ll be on a composing spree for a new album. Geralt wishes him luck and decides to go to the family ranch to relax. His biggest work project is finished for now and Geralt enjoys taking Roach to the ranch where he can do some physical work and ride horses with his father. Vesemir may not be the best and showing emotions, but Geralt always feels warm staying with him.

“You found someone,” his father states one night as they’re sitting in front of the fireplace, drinking whiskey. Geralt winces but doesn’t dare to deny it.

“Yeah,” he admits. “His name is Jaskier.”

Vesmir hums and glances at him with a smirk. “Strange name. Is the guy also strange?”

“So strange,” Geralt agrees. “There are rumours that he’s a cryptid and sometimes I think I agree.”

Vesemir laughs. “If he’s a cryptid, then you must be a cryptid hunter,” his father mutters with a weird smirk. “You’ll fit that way.”

Geralt just grunts. “He’s famous.”

“Of course he is,” Vesmis sighs. “Things are never easy with you, hm?”

Geralt shrugs with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t know that when I met him but he doesn’t share his name with the public. He has a dog.”

His father nods, staring into the fire. Silence falls as Geralt gets lost in the memories of Jaskier’s smile and gentle hugs and deep voice. He misses the other man, even though Jaskier also has to do his job. He knows that Jaskier loves to create, he’s always humming or singing something, more and more with each passing day.

Geralt enjoys seeing him bloom like that. While Jaskier still wears plaid, the colours became much more vibrant and Geralt even saw quite a few neon t-shirts in Jaskier’s closet. Whenever he sees it, it makes him smile.

Jaskier was just made to wear bright colours, maybe even some shimmering fabrics, ridiculous outfits. Geralt has no idea where that came from as his friend wears primarily dark colours and plaid, but it just works. 

He stays at the ranch for 4 days before Jaskier calls him again.

“Geralt!” his friend announces happily. Geralt can hear how tired he is, but Jaskier’s excitement is contagious and Geralt smiles involuntarily. “Oh, how I missed you, my friend. It’s been way too long since we talked, and I have so much to tell you too!”

“Jaskier,” Geralt greets warmly.

“I have the whole album finished! My agent is overjoyed, I thought she was going to kill me at some point, but I have it! And...may I come over? I have a song for you.”

Jaskier’s voice gets quieter by the end and Geralt’s heart lurches. “I’d love to hear it,” he says truthfully. “I’m at my father’s ranch right now, but you can come if you’d like.”

He’s not sure if Jaskier would like to bother himself with riding such a long distance, but before Geralt can get insecure, Jaskier’s voice chimes in,

“I’d love to,” he says brightly. “And I can take Gwynbleidd, he’ll run around a bit for sure. He loves horses.”

Geralt grunts and gives Jaskier directions, trying not to focus on how his heart is racing when the other man assures him that he’ll be there by the end of the day. His father just gives Geralt a look but prepares a guest bedroom and when Jaskier’s car pulls up, Geralt is already waiting.

His arms are open and Jaskier, as always, throws himself at him, only this time Gwynbleidd follows, sending them both on the ground.

Geralt grunts, Jaskier laughs and then they’re both chuckling. “Hello,” the musician says brightly. “Missed me?”

Geralt grunts again, hauling Jaskier to his feet, but the other man grins as if he understands that Geralt is saying that yes, he missed Jaskier a lot. They walk towards the ranch and Vesemir is there, arms crossed in front of his chest.

His father’s eyes widen when he sees Jaskier and Geralt’s friend tenses a bit under his touch. Jaskier steps closer and plasters a smile on his face.

“I’m Jaskier,” he says brightly, though there’s a heaviness in his tone. “It’s an honour to be here.”

Geralt’s father stares at his friend for a second, before nodding. “Welcome to Kaer Morhen,” he replies. “I’m Vesemir, Geralt’s father.”

They shake hands, still staring at each other and then Vesemir relaxes, stepping aside. Geralt’s not sure what just happened, but his father is a hard army man, and he sometimes can be a bit paranoid. 

After that they eat dinner that Jaskier makes while pulling Vesemir into a conversation, Gwynbleidd running around the ranch, only to stop for pets sometimes.

“That’s some affectionate dog,” Vesemir comments, seeing Gwynbleidd on his back, demanding belly rubs.

Jaskier laughs and looks up, eyes shining. “He’s a sweetheart, very patient with me and even needier than I am!”

Vesemir grunts, eyes soft and they carry on as Gwynbleidd runs back out. They talk some more until Geralt can’t take Jaskier’s wiggling and stands up.

“Can you ride?”

Jaskier’s smirk is a bit dirty, a bit flirty. “Oh darling, so very well,” he purrs making Geralt flush a bit.

His father snorts and leaves without a world and Jaskier laughs, tugging Geralt outside. “Yeah, calm down, big boy, I can definitely ride a horse. Quite like it, actually.”

“Good,” he grunts and leads him towards the stables.

His chestnut mare is already there, for some reason named Pegasus. Geralt names her when he was younger and he still doesn’t know why exactly he chose that name for a mare.

Jaskier lights up seeing the horses and immediately goes towards a white stallion, stubborn and bullheaded. Before Geralt can warn him, the man is already wrapping his arms around the horse’s neck, cooing to him.

The horse, Phoenix, snorts but doesn’t move and lets Jaskier do as he pleases. Geralt watches in stunned surprise as Jaskier coos and pets their most stubborn and wild horse. Though, to be fair, nothing that Jaskier does should surprise him anymore.

“Shall we go?” Jaskier asks with a cheeky smirk, heading towards the saddles and other equipment and Geralt just shakes his head.

It’s weirdly familiar, working on saddling their horses next to each other, though Geralt keeps expecting Jaskier to help him with Pegasus. It’s not that he can’t do it himself, but something in him says that’s how it should be.

Geralt shakes his head free of those pesky thoughts and not even 15 minutes later they’re riding out into the trees surrounding the ranch. Jaskier has his trusty guitar on his back, and Geralt almost asks if he’s not worried about it breaking but then remembers that Jaskier must have more than enough money to buy another one if anything happens.

Jaskier babbles about things for the whole ride, but Geralt can sense that he’s nervous for some reason. It never happened before and Geralt does his best to calm him down, riding close enough for their legs to brush.

His friend laughs, spurring Phoenix into a faster gait, Geralt following him easily. Gwynbleidd is there, running alongside them, getting his exercise. For a second, Geralt feels as if everything is just the way it’s supposed to be - just them, the forest and the adventure in front of them.

“That seems good enough,” Jaskier states at some point, looking around the small campsite. There are a few fallen logs for them to sit on, so they unmount and let the horses graze as Jaskier settles on one log, guitar in his hands.

Nervous blue eyes rise to meet Geralt’s and he feels his breathing catch. Jaskier never looked more lovely, bathed in the faint light of the setting sun, eyes shining. Geralt swallows and puts on an encouraging smile.

“You said you have a song to show me,” he says to break the silence.

Jaskier nods, sheepish but excited. “Yeah, I- Yeah,” he says again. “It’s… It came to me with a new muse, you see…”

The musician trails off before picking up again. “It’s not finished yet, there’s a lot to be improved here but well, I couldn’t wait to show it to you and you don’t have to like it or anything just-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupts, laying one hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. “I love everything you come up with,” he says quietly. “I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“Okay then,” Jaskier breathes and focuses on his guitar.

The music is just there to set a rhythm, something for Jaskier to focus on and when Geralt hears “ _Babe_ ” in his voice, his heartbeat picks up.

_Something so magic about you_

_Don't you agree?_

Yes, Geralt agrees. He’s not one to believe in magic but when Jaskier smiles or says something strange or lays a hand on his shoulder, Geralt swears there’s more to what’s happening than he can see. More magic then he usually believes in.

_Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago_

Those words pierce through Geralt’s heart and leave him breathless. For some reason, he knows what Jaskier is talking about, understands what he’s trying to say. Geralt also feels as if they’ve met before, as if they used to be close. There’s this magnetism pulling Geralt towards Jaskier and he’s helpless to stop it.

_I slithered here from Eden just to hide outside your door._

Jaskier’s eyes are bright and brimming with tears when he stops singing, letting the music carry on in the silent forest. Geralt is staring at him, heart hammering and hands shaking.

“Was that-” he stops to take a deep breath before finishing. “Was that about me?”

“Yes,” Jaskier replies in a scared whisper and Geralt never wants to see him scared again.

He almost trips over his own legs on his way to kneel by Jaskier’s side and then his hands are cupping Jaskier’s face and they’re kissing.

The other man freezes in shock, hands hovering over his guitar but then Geralt feels them on his hips, still hesitant but warm. He makes a small sound into the kiss and it’s enough to kick Jaskier into answering it. Slow and careful, and fuck, Geralt can feel Jaskier’s pulse hammering even faster than his own.

Very carefully, Geralt moves Jaskier’s guitar out of the way, before pulling the other man closer. For all that the musician feels familiar, the kissing is new and fresh and Geralt is still a little scared but Jaskier just poured his heart out for him and Geralt isn’t stupid enough to reject it out of cowardice.

It takes a few more moments, but then Jaskier seems to realize that it’s really happening and the other man throws himself into the kiss with fire and passion that surprises Geralt. He gasps into Jaskier’s mouth, suddenly breathless, as if Jaskier’s stealing the air from his lungs.

“You don’t know important things about me,” Jaskier mutters breathlessly against Geralt’s mouth and he just chuckles, kissing him again.

“I have the time to find out,” he says and kisses him again before Jaskier can add anything else.

**Author's Note:**

> another chapter soon. the last one too. let me know if you enjoyed it!


End file.
